“The Church exists to tell anyone and everyone who knocks on her door wondering what’s inside: Come and see” (pg. 58). Such reminders make The Church a worthwhile read.
The way of the cross is the actual way of victory. Jesus absorbs the worst of what humanity and even the devil can do to him, and he spurns the shame of it all.
The IRS says churches can endorse candidates from the pulpit. But just because they can doesn’t mean they should.

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Jesus simply can’t help himself. Over and over in the Gospels we find Jesus leaving a wake of physical restoration.
You know that person who keeps offending you in some way? They come to you all glossy-eyed and soft-spoken, stammering to get "please forgive me" out because it's the umpteenth time they've done this?
But in that quest for thou shalts and thou shalt nots, you’ll miss what really matters. You’ll trample the cross while racing for the tablets of stone. From the tale of Achan's theft, you’ll rob yourself of Jesus.
In the tiny Texas town where I grew up, sleeping in on Sunday morning was as inconceivable as rooting for someone besides the Dallas Cowboys on Sunday afternoon.
Good people like fist-pounding on the pulpit about the bad things that bad people do in this bad world of ours. It makes them feel better about themselves.
I once saw a man holding a sign that read: Divorce is an abomination. Repent! That’s it. Nothing else.
In Christ, we become part of the group of eight on the ark. The eight does not increase to nine or ten but swells to contain us all. God recreates us in this saving flood of baptism. We enter the new creation in Christ.
If you read my posts here or on my own site, you’ll find that most of my writings lean toward the issue of dark times or brokenness in our lives.
Jonah wanted nothing more than to be a safe preacher. His Lord could get carried away with love at times. He let it get the best of him.
Some days, I stare at the computer screen, haphazardly pecking at my keyboard, wondering where the words will come from or even if the words will ever come again.
For most of us, waiting on God is not funny at all. It makes us wonder if he cares. If he has forgotten us. In our darkest hours, many even wonder if the atheists are right, if our prayers are nothing more than sick words vomited into an empty heaven.
To say that I have been in a funk would be a huge understatement, it would probably also give you the impression that maybe since I have known I haven’t been conquering and moving forward in my sanctification I have felt sad about it.